Christmas ‘78
by FugitiveJuliana
Summary: A Christmas in Bosco's childhood.


Title: Christmas '78

Author: Juliana

Rating: PG 13

Warning: domestic violence, abusive language

Maurice stood up from the floor where he was playing with his car models. He wanted a cup of cocoa because he knew mom would soon come to his room and send him to bed and then he wouldn't have a chance to get it. It was Christmas Eve and he was too excited to go to sleep anyway. In the morning Mikey and he would get their presents. He had been hoping they would go to midnight mass but dad said it was too late for them to stay up so long. He didn't like going to church every Sunday but he liked midnight mass. He was only allowed to go once and that was last year when dad hadn't been home and mom took Mikey and him to church alone.

He went down the hallway towards the kitchen and observed the colorful lights and decorations that mom put up on the wall. He was playing some sort of a game trying to not blink for as long as possible so he got the full effect of the tiny bulbs blinking and changing the color of the hallway. But his game was suddenly interrupted and he stopped in his tracks when he heard the angry voices of his parents. Not again!

He pressed his skinny body to the wall as if he was less conspicuous that way and then stepped cautiously towards the half open door. He peeked around the doorframe and just made out his mother's back turned towards him. He couldn't see his pop but he could definitely hear him.

"Rose, he broke my glasses, he should learn a lesson!"

"But he didn't do it on purpose, he sat on them because they were lying on the couch."

"Of course they were lying on the couch, I was reading my newspaper with them."

"Can't you just buy new ones and forget about it?"

"No, I can't! I told you, the lump needs to learn a lesson. He's not getting any damn presents. And that's final!" His father's voice was rising with every spoken word. Maurice was almost glued to the wall when he kept watching. He knew they were talking about Mikey because he had heard dad yell at him when he broke his glasses.

"But Anthony, he's just a kid …"

"Will you shut up!"

They were very close now, he knew it. Every second now his father would hit his ma and she would start fighting back until he would break her and he would watch and watch, unable to move his eyes away till they began to hurt with the unshed tears. He always felt like frozen with fear and anger, wanting to stop it but too afraid to interfere because of what had happened the last time he did.

"Anthony …" she began again but he pushed her aside. "Get outta my way," he yelled and walked to the door where he slammed them behind his back.

When the silence lasted for over a minute, Maurice let out his breath. It ended well this time.

He stepped into the kitchen and Rose turned around, frightened by the sound.

He looked up at her with wide eyes. "I wanted some cocoa," he stammered and Rose smiled. She secretly wiped away her tears but he had seen them, like always.

"Of course, baby. I'll make it right away."

"I can do it myself," he said quietly, not wanting to bother her.

"I'll do it for you and you know what? We'll put a bit of chocolate in it cause you're such a good boy. Okay?"

"'Kay," he agreed. He knew Mikey would be mad at him because he hadn't gotten chocolate in his cocoa but he was already asleep now so it didn't matter.

She sat him up onto the counter and started mixing his cocoa. Maurice wanted to ask her about Mikey's presents but didn't dare because then she'd know he had been listening at the door. He felt so sorry for Mikey and he knew he had to do something about it. He just didn't know what. He sighed helplessly.

"You okay?" Rose asked worriedly. He nodded but instead of looking her in the eyes he turned to watch the bright Christmas tree in the corner of the living room. She knew something was bothering him. But she had a feeling she would never get it out of him if she asked directly. He was such a reserved and quiet boy she sometimes worried all the things he held inside would damage him. He was too young to deal with everything alone and she just didn't know how to make him talk.

"Here's your cocoa. Drink it and then go straight to bed," she smiled at him as she put the mug in his little hands.

"So I don't have to wash my teeth?" he asked roguishly. 

She grinned. "You know what I meant. You gotta be good, it's Christmas tomorrow and you don't want Santa to think you're a bad boy, do you?"

"There is no Santa," he said and the smile disappeared from his face. His dad had told him three years ago on Christmas Eve that he had to 'work fuckin' hard to buy him his presents cause there was no bloody Santa'. So Maurice knew there was no Santa Claus with his elves, no Rudolph and no sleigh flying through the air. But he also knew that even if he did something bad his ma would never tell his dad. 

He gulped down the rest of the cocoa and put the mug down on the counter.

"Now go to bed, honey," Rose said as she leaned down and kissed his forehead.

"When is dad coming back?"

She looked at him weirdly. "I don't know, baby. Why?"

He shrugged and then said, "Night."

"Night, Maurice."

He brushed his teeth and then crawled into his bed. It was soft and warm and he felt a bit better. At least till he started to think about what he should do so that Mikey would get his present. 

He tossed and turned in his bed. He couldn't go to sleep. He should be looking forward to the next morning when he'd get to open his Christmas presents but he couldn't because he imagined his little brother's disappointment when he wouldn't get any.

He couldn't miss his dad coming home because of all the commotion he caused in the hallway when he overturned their coat hanger. The noise continued when they started fighting again in their bedroom. Maurice hid his head under the pillow and pressed it firmly against his ears so he wouldn't hear their yelling. Silent tears of despair were drowning in the soft pillow.

He didn't know for how long he had been lying like that. When he lifted his head from under the pillow he didn't hear any more voices. He listened intently for another couple of minutes till he was sure they had gone to sleep.

He slipped out of his bed and tiptoed to the door. He was trying to make as few noises as possible when he crawled down the hallway and into the living room. He didn't dare turn on the lights so he searched for the flashlight he knew was in the top drawer in the chest of drawers.

He thought hard where his pop would hide Mikey's present. There were no hiding places in the living room. He searched in the wardrobe under the television, behind the books and other stuff on the shelves, behind the couch. He couldn't find anything. Now he was beginning to worry that they hadn't even bought a present for his brother. His eyes searched once more around the living room.

He spotted the wardrobe above the drawers from where he had gotten the flashlight. Of course, his father would've put it in there so none of them could reach it. 

He went to the wardrobe and stepped on his tiptoes but he couldn't reach the doors. He tried one more time, unsuccessfully.

He put the flashlight on the coffee table so that it was lighting the ceiling. Then he dragged a chair beneath the wardrobe as quietly as possible. It stuck on the rug once but he managed to lift it before he tripped and fell. 

Finally in place he stepped up onto the chair and carefully stood up. He opened the wardrobe door and looked inside. He could barely make out the objects. He would need his flashlight now, he thought. But then he spotted a wrapped box. That must be it. He reached for it on the top shelf but he could touch it only with the tips of his fingers.

He was poking at it till it started to slide his way. He thought he could catch it but he couldn't. He lost his balance on the edge of the chair and he fell to the floor with the box hitting him in his stomach. He hit his left elbow hard but tried to muffle the cry of pain so it came out as a whimper. 

His pain was forgotten when he heard the door of his parent's bedroom open. The pain of hitting the floor was nothing compared to the pain that was awaiting him. 

"Maurice?" a soft voice called out at him from the dark hallway and he whimpered again, this time with relief. 

She came into view, clutching her robe around her.

"What are you doing up, Maurice? And what was that noise?"

She had turned on the lights before she came to him and kneeled down in front of him. She noticed the bruise on his elbow that had already started to show.

"I was just trying to get Mikey's present," he barely whispered, scared of the consequences that that might have for both of them.

"Mikey's present?" she asked and her brow furrowed in an attempt to understand his words.

"I heard dad … He said Mikey wouldn't get his Christmas present cause he broke his glasses. I just wanted to put the present under the tree. It wouldn't be fair if he didn't get anything …"

Rose felt her eyes fill with tears when she listened to her son. 

"Oh, Maurice," she sniffled when she pulled him into a hug.

"Can't there be a minute of quiet so I could get some fuckin' sleep? What's going on here?" Both Maurice and Rose jumped at the low growl that came from the door.

Maurice started to shiver and he pressed closer to his mama.

"Nothing, Anthony. Just go back to bed, everything's fine."

"You think I'm stupid, woman?" he sneered at her before he came closer and noticed the box, lying next to the boy on the floor.

"What's this? Trying to steal in the middle of the night? And from your own parents no less!"

"Anthony! He wasn't trying to steal anything. He just wanted to put the present for Mikey under the tree so he would get it in the morning."

"Oh yeah? Disobeying your old man, huh?" Anthony leaned menacingly closer to Maurice. The boy instinctively shook his head 'no' but his father grabbed his collar and tried to pull him away from Rose.

"Please, Anthony," Rose quietly pleaded with her husband and pulled Maurice into a tighter embrace.

"Shut up!" he snarled at her and lifted the boy almost off his feet.

Maurice quivered and his face went white but he didn't let out a sound.

It had hit him before he was aware of his father grabbing his belt from the couch. It felt like the skin on his back had burst into flames and his eyes filled with tears instantly. 

"Anthony!" Rose pushed her husband away and pulled her son to her chest.

"He needs to know sneaking around at night and disobeying orders isn't right! You're too fuckin' soft with them that's why they never obey anything I say! You've spoiled them rotten. They're nothing better than you. Worthless. Useless pieces of shit! I can't even believe they're mine," Anthony spat out, turned on his heals and staggered into the kitchen.

Maurice's lower lip started to tremble but he refused to cry in front of his father. He wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing him weak. Rose's cheeks were wet with tears when she hugged him tenderly trying to ease away his pain. "He didn't mean it like that. He's not himself, you know he didn't mean it like that." She whispered the words over and over again like they were some sort of a prayer for their salvation.

Anthony returned through the door with a beer and before he went back to their bedroom, he said derisively, "He's just the same pansy ass you are. Look at him, he can't even bear a few harsh words."

Rose refused to meet his hateful eyes. She cuddled Maurice as best as she could but he could still feel the stinging strip of skin burned by the leather. They sat on the floor for several minutes before his shivering stopped and his back didn't feel like the skin was being peeled off anymore.

Rose let go off her son just for a second so she could place Mikey's gift under the tree, then she returned to him, sitting lost on the rug.

Maurice didn't say a word not even after she had carried him to his bed and tucked him in. She thought she could see resentment on his face but then he hid his small face into the pillow and didn't return her good nights.

When she watched his still and small figure under the covers she wondered helplessly what good was she if she couldn't even help her eight-year old son.

When Maurice turned on his back in the morning he winced at the pain that shot through his body. It was that that woke him up not Mikey standing at the side of his bed and calling him to wake up so they could go open their presents. 

Maurice didn't feel like opening the presents but he thought it best not to express his feelings in front of Mikey. He was too young to understand, luckily.

They entered the living room still in their pyjamas. Maurice warily searched for his father but he was nowhere to be seen. Rose heard them and came from the kitchen holding two mugs of cocoa in her hands.

Maurice saw it right away. He was so used to seeing it she couldn't even hide it with her powder anymore. He knew she tried but he could discern the bluish tinge through the brown powder and he saw the puffiness of her eye. She caught him watching it and he looked away.

"Morning, sweethearts. I've made you some cocoa to drink while you open your presents."

She put the mugs on the coffee table and then kissed them both on their cheeks.

Her eyes stayed on Maurice a little longer but he didn't want to acknowledge it. He went to the Christmas tree and kneeled in front of it without a word. First he searched for the box he had seen last night. When he spotted it under the tree he sighed with relief. He had left it there.

Mikey excitedly went through the boxes, all nicely wrapped up and with nametags on each of them. 

"Is this one for me?" he asked enthusiastically when he saw the one with his name on it.

Rose sat down next to him and nodded. She smiled happily when she watched her son tear at the paper, too impatient to try to open it nicely.

Maurice quietly opened his present. A smile tugged at his lips despite his sore body and the still fresh memories of last night in his mind. He took the sneakers out of the box and observed them in his hands like he couldn't believe they were there.

Rose, confused by his reaction, or lack of it, quietly asked him, "Do you like them?"

He looked directly at her for the first time that morning. He smiled and the spark returned to his eyes. "They're cool."

She smiled back and ruffled his hair.

"Look, Mo, I got my truck," Mikey was so exited about his gift he couldn't even sit still.

Maurice looked at the truck his little brother held in his hands and thought about all the pain that it had caused. He was happy to see the excited smile on his brother's face but he didn't manage to smile back. Mikey, however, was too absorbed in checking out his new toy to notice it.

Maurice's eyes fell on the gift he had made for his father. It was wrapped in a blue paper and small cars that he had drawn on cardboard and then cut out were glued to the box. He loved his father so much. But sometimes he made him so angry that it scared him. His back still stung and his tiny chest constricted with the effort to suppress the quiet sobs. He didn't know what he had done for his father to hate him so much. Father's words hurt him more than his injured back. Worthless, useless … He bit his lip to stop himself from crying in front of Mikey.

Rose secretly wiped at her tears when she watched her baby experiencing emotions he shouldn't even have known at his age.


End file.
